The Definite Article
by Marvy
Summary: A young woman fresh out of college, working at a medical record reviewing business, stumbles across the Doctor's phone number by a weird twist of fate. Pairings are unsure at this point, definite TenxRose. This is an AU after the Doctor leaves everyone behind after Ten 2 and Donna are situated. Specific timeline to be determined later.
1. House Call

**A/N: **Okedoke. This is pretty close to an SI but, again, I'm not making Gris me. Just taking personal experience. I was sitting at work, doing essentially what is going on in this chapter, and decided that this could make a nice jumping board for an American companion. So. Yeah. And yes, I do hate myself a little.

**EXTRA NOTE:** Her name has been changed to Griselda Vrone (all you new readers...that won't matter). Although! If you can guess whose name her name is an anagram of, I'll give you a guest appearance! Please only message me your guess as to not ruin the surprise.

**Disclaimer: **Doctor Who stuff isn't mine. Record Keepers I don't think, doesn't exist in this capacity and if it does it wasn't on purpose.

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><p>It was one of those days, just like every other day. I walked into work a 7:43 and organized my desk while I waited for it to be 7:45. I then went and made my oatmeal before I settled in to start reading the medical records of this or that patient. I did that until 9am, when the phone lines opened and it was time for me to start calling.<p>

My job was a pretty nondescript job. The company I worked for was great, but how much fun can you have a monotonous desk job that, essentially, equated to calling doctors' offices all day and occasionally taking a break to look over medical records. I was a back-up analyst so I did it in my "free" time, but my sole purpose was to coerce the offices into listening to what I had to say. I wasn't selling anything, but you'd think I was trying to buy their first born child half of the time.

It was a pretty regular day – smoke break at 9:15, then at 11. Lunch at 12:30, chatting with the girls while we smoked away the last twenty minutes of our lunch. Back to the calling grind. It hadn't been a bad day; no crazies had responded to me yet, no one had decided to tell me that I was the scum of the Earth, and no one threatened to call journalists because they thought I was doing something illegal.

Until I reached one of the many cleaning sites. This meant we had just received the information from the insurance company and then had to call the offices to make sure we had the _right_ information. We got some pretty wonky information from the insurance companies sometimes; weird names, wrong names, P.O. boxes, 999 numbers. You name it, I've seen it.

The one thing I hadn't seen, but didn't think anything of, was seeing the site name as The Doctor. There was no actual provider listed, but the clinic was listed as The Doctor and there was this really bizarre number. I figured it was Hawaii or something, because I don't call them very often and sometimes you'll get like offshore numbers for the international doctors that gave up their cellphone numbers to the insurance company. That was all the information we had received. Basically, I had one try – if this number didn't lead me to the right place, I'd trash the information and send it back to the insurance company. They expected a lot out of us. I imagined searching "The Doctor" wouldn't yield a whole lot of helpful results so I didn't really bother. Sometimes you can search John Smith MD and get a decent hit, but this was basically useless.

So I took a swig of coffee before pressing in the numbers and dialing it, my headset firming on my head like a trashy headband.

The ring was weird, but that happened sometimes. Sort of echo-y. Probably a bad connected.

"Hello?" A voice, distinctly British and quite male, answered. He sounded very, very…confused.

"H-hello, my name is Griselda Vrone and I'm calling from Record Keepers. I'm looking for information regarding The Doctor. Is this the correct phone number?"

"Well..uhh…yes, yes I s'pose it is. You said Gris, right?"

"Right. And, sir, might I have your name for documentation?"

"The Doctor."

"You mean you're the doctor at this practice? Might I by chance have a last name."

"I don't-…uh. Smith. John Smith."

Great, a joker. Who was really named John Smith? Come on, at least be original if you're going to mess around with me.

"Thank you, Dr. Smith. I am just calling to confirm some information regarding your practice. I just want to let you know that this call may be recorded for quality and training purposes."

"May be or is?"

"Is. Is this a problem? I can call you from an open line, if you would prefer."

He laughed a little, an odd little chuckle, "No, uhh, no that's fine. What…uhh, what can I do for you, Gris?"

"Is the name of your practice The Doctor?"

"You could say that."

Really? _Really? _This was going to be one of _those _calls.

"All right. And what is the address?"

"I…it's a moving clinic, so to speak."

"Do you have a place that you receive mail?"

"No, not as such."

"And is this the best phone number?"

"Yes. It…uhh. How did you get this number, if I you don't mind my asking?"

"Of course not, sir. I would love to answer any questions you have," I smiled into the phone, making sure to sound far less bore or annoyed than I might have actually been. "The insurance company passes on the information they are given on their billing notices."

"Insurance?" He mimicked before saying, "Well…is it on a piece of paper or in your computer?"

"A computer, sir," I responded, raising an eyebrow as I stared at the screen in front of me. Who used paper like that. "And sir, do you have a fax machine?"

"It's…not…working right now, sorry. And you can just call me the Doctor, don't need to bother with formalities like 'sir'."

"Okay, thanks. And. Uh, that's fine. Would you be willing to take down my information so that you might call me back when you have a fax machine or a mailing address?"

"I..uhh..don't know why not," was his response and there was a little bit of rustling, shifting, and then he said, "All right, then."

I gave him our 800 number and my extension. Afterwards, he asked if I had a more direct line and I told him that extension would go right to my desk.

I asked him a few more questions, to which I received increasingly bizarre answers, before I thanked him for his time.

"And Griselda?" he said before I got a chance to say good-bye.

"Yes, Doctor?"

"You may want to run."

Click.


	2. Shoe Box

**A/N:** I wrote this and the next chapter on hold today at work. The next chapter is going to have to wait until tomorrow because I have to go to sleep for work tomorrow. Thanks to Hediru for your review!

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><p>I did what any rational thinking human being would do when faced with such a statement from a complete stranger over the phone.<p>

I stared briefly at the display screen of my phone, shook my head, and locked my computer. My coffee cup was dangerously low so I removed my headset and walked to the other side of the building to one of the lunch rooms wherein plenty of coffee would await me.

Sure, aliens existed. I had been on the roof all those years ago. When those Sycorax things had tried to take over. I knew about the crash in the Thames and the countless other contacts made – but that wasn't something that I thought about often or even with much intensity.

So I poured my coffee and stirred in some sugar, a tad bit of cream to cool it down, and lifted it to my lips.

The entire building shook and I stumbled, the coffee spilling down my front. It was hot and uncomfortable, but the key was that the _entire building_ had just shifted.

There was a fair bit of screaming.

And I ran. But towards it. I jerked the lunchroom door open and stood, gaping, at the far side of the very open office.

In addition to the large – very large – hunk of what looked like space rock that had crashed into the side of the building, people running around through the rows of cubicles towards whatever exit they could get to, there was a man. A tall, lanky man standing atop the rock. And a blue box, nestled in front of the copy room.

I moved slowly towards him, being thrust back every few seconds by the dwindling stream of my coworkers and stopped.

"Uh…hello?" I said, looking up to the man that had climbed the rock. He didn't work here, although he was dressed in a suit. A brown suit with pinstripes that looked quite excellent on his frame. But his Chucks were definitely not a part of the dress code.

"Hello there. And who are you?"

I was struck by his question. This man was all but riding a space rock that had destroyed half of my building.

"Gris. Griselda. But you can call me Gris."

"Oh! Hello! I'm the Doctor." As he said this, his face lit up like I was a Christmas present and his hand, long fingers like a piano player's, extended down to me.

I looked from his face, to his hand, to the giant boulder he stood on, and back again.

"What the hell," I shrugged and took his hand, hoisting myself up onto the rock with his help.

"So…uh…I'm assuming you're the Doctor I spoke with?"

"It would appear so."

"So did you have something to do with this?" I asked, waving my hand in the direction of the solid and quite warm lump of space debris beneath us.

"Not particularly," he responded as he clamored about, inspecting.

"Does that mean yes without really saying it?"

He laughed and turned, looking at me from behind the black framed glasses that weren't dissimilar to mine, "No. I just sort of followed it here."

"How?"

He pointed to the blue police box that had no place being where it was.

"You followed it in that? Flintstone style?"

He gave me a blank look.

"Move it with your feet?" I offered.

His blank stare turned into mostly confusion, "That's not a very realistic way to travel through time and space."

"A realistic way?" I snorted, raising an eyebrow at him. "Are you telling me that you travel through space and time in that shoe box and you're questioning my 1960's cartoon reference?"

He looked half amused and half put out, "Don't make fun of my TARDIS."

"Please tell me that stands for something," I snorted, raising an eyebrow as my eyes shifted from him to the box and back again.

"Time and Relative Dimension in Space."

"And you've never given it a nickname?"

"Like what?"

"Oh, I don't know. Papa Smurf?"

"She's a she."

"Uhm. Smurfette, then."

The Doctor snorted, "I'll stick with TARDIS. So. What do you know about space rocks?"

"Very little. This is the first one I've met," I laughed a little, knocking gently on the nearest outcropping of rock.

I jumped back a little and would've fallen off if the Doctor hadn't caught me gently around the waist. I almost fell over again when the Doctor let go because the top of the outcropping shifted and lifted, some sort of gas rolling out like a fog.

"Hold your breath a second," he said, his face directed towards the opening. He removed a small, odd shaped metal tube with a blue light that made an odd sort of radio noise.

"Sonic screwdriver," he offered as I focused on not breathing.

I nodded a little as my chest constricted from a lack of oxygen. The Doctor looked at me with a strange expression on his face as I blinked at him.

"Are you still holding your breath?"

I nodded.

"What are you doing that for? It's not toxic."

I inhaled like I was dying and reached out, tentatively smacked his shoulder. He turned and looked at me with the oddest look on his face and then he broke into a grin.

He extended his hand. "Ladies first?"

I blinked at him for a second, took his hand, and climbed down into a giant space rock that had crashed through the side of Record Keepers not five minutes before.


	3. Allons-y!

**A/N**: And here we go again. I'm actually catching up to what I've been writing at work, I might have to kick it up a notch. Thanks to LM1991 for adding me to your alert list! Also - HI CRYSTAL!

**Disclaimer:** Don't own the Whoniverse.

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><p>It didn't look like a space rock. It was elaborately decorated like some Victorian parlor, complete with a library of books on one half and a dining room table. It was in disarray, as one can imagine it would be from crash landing.<p>

"Do you see anyone?" The Doctor asked from near what I imagined was a control panel.

I shook my head then vocalized in the negative. I was preoccupied with the books. They were all first editions.

"Who's is this?"

"No idea," he responded, moving over to me. "Nice collection, though."

"I know! This is probably a million dollars worth of books. Quite the connoisseur. I wonder what she does."

"How do you know it's a she?"

"Look at the books," I pointed out the array of Victorian romance novels. "This looks just like my bookshelf, but more expensive."

He looked at me, hard, for a long minute before he grinned. "Gris, have you ever wanted to travel?"

I was caught off-guard by the question but nodded as I started to right things inside the rock. "Yes, I suppose I do."

"Would you like to come with me?"

"In your shoe box?"

He snorted, "Yes. In the TARDIS. It's bigger on the inside."

"Right. Well, I can't imagine this day getting much weirder. What have I got to lose?"

"I like you," he chuckled before he turned around and seemed to be inspecting the control panel.

"That's…good, I suppose?" I lifted the table to stand on its six legs and picked up the papers that had scattered, frowning. "Doctor, there's some writing on these papers. I can't read it, its just a jumble of symbols that don't look like anything."

"You mean you can't read," he stared, taking the papers from my hand and adjusting his glasses. "Vermorevese?"

"Gesundheit?" I laughed and he shook his head, smiling.

"The TARDIS translates. I mean, once you spend some time in it you'll be able to read things like this."

"You mean your ship will translate alien languages from inside my head?"

"After a fashion."

"Does it make me smarter too?"

"Not really. Although it does make you look cool."

I laughed, shaking my head as he read over the papers.

"Oh. Well, you were right."

"I was right? About what?"

"Our friend here is a female," the Doctor responded, shaking the papers a little for emphasis.

"Well, she isn't exactly _here_," I half-smiled, looking around the room for a door or anywhere else the individual could have gone.

"She was running," he stated, shuffling the pages before he set them down.

"From what?"

"I'm not sure."

"Whatever it was, I think it caught her," I frowned; unless there was a hidden door, there was no where she could have gone.

"I can trace the ship's trajectory on the TARDIS, find out where it started its unplanned decent. Shall we?" he gestured towards the way we came in and I took it as suggestion to climb out.

"You know, we should probably get out of here before too long. I imagine the police will be arriving soon."

"I'm actually quite surprised they aren't here yet," he emerged from the rock and closed it over, then pointed his sonic screwdriver at it. "Sealing it up. Don't need a bunch of scientists messing around in there."

"And what are you, then?"

"The Doctor."

"Not who, what?"

"Just that."

"Your name isn't really John Smith, is it?"

"What's in a name?" he asked, hopping down from the rock and offering me his hand.

"A rose by any other name would smell as sweet," I mimicked his accent. He looked queasy for a second and I frowned, "Not a fan of Shakespeare?"

"No, not that," he responded brusquely with a wave of his hand before he started for the blue box. Shrugging , I followed him. I wasn't sure why I was following him. But I was. And I did. Right into that shoe box.

"What the," I started, eyes widening as I looked around me. It wasn't just bigger on the inside, it was huge. Easily the size of my apartment.

"Space ship," the Doctor offered as he came to stand at the console, fiddling with knobs.

"I guess so Definitely puts the 'space' in 'space ship'. I guess that's why it's a relative dimension, right? I mean, from TARDIS. This doesn't really exist, not in the way that I do."

The Doctor turned from the console and stared at me for a minute, "Gris?"

"Yes?"

"You have coffee all over your front."

I looked down – my shirt which had, until my coffee incident, been a pleasant pink blouse was now a soaked and brown mess. I laughed a little, "Yeah, looks like. I was drinking coffee in the break room when the other ship crashed."

"There's a wardrobe through the door in the back. Down the hall and first door on your left."

"_There's more_?" I said, incredulous as I walked in the direction he suggested.

He just waved me on and I went to find a change of clothes.

The 'wardrobe' was more like a giant room with a rotating spiral rack like a dry cleaner's and held more clothes than Macy's. There was an abundance of men's clothes but more than enough women's clothes to pick from. Which kind of weirded me out.

"Lots of lovely little lady clothes," I stated as I emerged in a plain blue t-shirt that looked kind fo silly with my black pinstriped work pants and knock-off would-be fancy heels.

He didn't say anything so I continued, "Do you have lots of ladies travel with you?"

"Why do you lot always ask that?"

"Just curious. There's a lot of male clothes too, and I know they wouldn't all fit that frame of yours."

"Yes," he replied. "Actually, a disproportionate amount of females, I suppose. You lot – women, I mean – are more adventurous."

I laughed. "Or you just find the crazy ones. I suppose the fact that you're attractive doesn't hurt your chances of snagging a lady friend."

"You think I'm attractive?"

"Who are you kidding, Doctor? _You_ think you're attractive."

He grinned and adjusted his lapels. "Well," he dragged out the word before grinning, an infectious sort of grin.

"You know, I think I actually must've passed out. This is rather incredible and impossible."

"I could pinch you?"

"You do owe me for that slap, I suppose."

"What do – oh, that."

"Not that you didn't completely deserve it. How was I supposed to know that it wasn't toxic? And why weren't you holding your breath?"

"I'm a bit more resilient."

"What, because you're a man?"

"No, because I'm a Time Lord."

I snorted derisively, raising an eyebrow as I leaned against a railing that surrounded the control deck. "And what, pray do tell, is that?"

"Alien race from the planet Gallifrey."

"Bullshit."

He looked quite surprised by my disagreement and he moved over, taking my hand. He put it over the left side of his chest. A heartbeat. Thuh-dump, thuh-dump. Then he moved my hand over and there was another heart beat. Da-ba-bump, da-ba-bump.

"Oh," I stared up at him, wide-eyed. He had removed his glasses. He _was_ handsome. In a bean pole sort of way.

"Well, Mr. Time Lord. Nice to…meet you. What does that…what are you?"

And so he explained to me what it meant to be a Time Lord, what the TARDIS did, and then he stopped with his hands in his pockets and his eyes locked on mine.

"Gris, would you like to come with me?"

"You mean would I like to travel through time and space, risking my life to save random species and exploring things most other humans will never get the chance to see?"

"In essence."

"You know, for a man with the whole of time and space in your brain, you're kind of thick."

"Why do you say that?"

"Who in their right mind would say no?"

And again, that grin. "Allons-y!"


	4. Breeding

**A/N**: I've changed her name to Griselda Vrone, Gris (Griz) for short. If you are the first person to figure out what her name is an anagram of, I'll give you a guest appearance! Please only message me your guess as to not ruin the surprise. Also - Vermorvet is, to my knowledge, a made-up alien race. There will be appearances of known Whoniverse aliens, but I wanted to make something up for their first adventure.

Thanks to Something dictionary related and Windfee01 for following this story!

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><p>And go we did.<p>

I carried a wallet, not a purse, which was tucked still in my deep jacket pocket. I took public transportation and lived by myself.

It was the perfect opportunity for me to disappear. I had a decent sized savings, but I didn't think my money would be good for many of the places we would go. But it was okay.

We were on the hunt for our missing book worm (how accurate this description was, I had no idea at the time) friend.

The Doctor ejected us from Earth's atmosphere and we floated about in the stars as the TARDIS worked her magic. The Doctor took my hand and led me to the doors. Gently he pushed them open and I gasped. I couldn't help myself.

The sight of the Earth in a sea of stars, from a distance that few had witnessed in person, brought tears to my eyes.

"If I die today," I said, not able to look away from the vision in front of me, "I will be okay with that."

"Hardly," he replied, sounding somber. "There is so much more to see, Gris. I can show you worlds you've never dreamed of, introduce you to people – alien races – that don't exist yet, in your time."

"Doctor?"

"Yes?"

"I don't think I'm ever going to leave."

He looked sad for a long moment before I reached out and touched his shoulder. He turned, frowning a little. Just a little. "They all say that."

"And I'm sure they all mean it. But Doctor?"

"Hmm?"

"I don't break promises."

The TARDIS didn't take much longer, just enough time for the Doctor to make us some tea.

There was a rotating screen popping off of somewhere that the Doctor moved over to. I followed him over, sipping my Doctored (haha) tea as he investigated the pictures before us.

I had taken some physics in college – honestly, I had taken a little bit of everything – and kind of understood what was going on. I reached passed him and with my index finger extended.

"That?" I asked, pointing to a spot on the line where I thought the ship had been attacked.

He took my hand and slid it over a little, "The engines would have kept ot up just a little longer, so it happened moments before the descent began."

Hadn't accounted for the engines. Why would I? I lowered my hand and sipped my tea.

"So what kind of aliens hunt other aliens?"

"A lot, unfortunately. Although I can't tell if this was planned or spur of the moment."

"So it could be a bounty hunter or a pirate?"

"Yes," he grinned and picked his tea up from the console.

"That sounds dangerous," I smiled widely and he mirrored my look. "So how do we find her?"

"Well," he stretched the word again, pushing his jacket aside and sliding his hands into his pockets while he rocked forward on the balls of his feet and back again. "We go to the site of the incursion and hope the guilty party left something behind."

"Like a tissue?"

"More like an atmospheric imprint," he corrected. "But it'll be about as effective. If there's anything to find, we might be able to figure out what kind of ship it was."

So we shifted our position and waited for the TARDIS to pick up on whatever evidence it could find. In the meantime, the Doctor regailed me with a tale of an alien bounty hunter that had been after him.

He didn't _seem_ lie he was nine hundred years old. But **two **hearts.

"And then," he continued his story, "I pointed the screw driver at him and he just sort of…stopped."

I laughed at his story, amazing and amused at the brashness and bravery of this incredible man. I'd faced down a spider or two, but nothing particularly death-defying.

There was a strange alarm like ding and the Doctor jerked away from the spot we occupied by the control panel to another location, tugging the TV screen over and inspecting it.

"This isn't good," he started, frowning as he pulled the screen closer.

"What isn't good?"

"This ship. It's a scavenger ship."

"Why didn't they take her ship, then?"

"Not that kind of scavenger. More like…abduction."

"You mean they kidnapped our girl?"

He looked at me for half a beat before he frowned. "Yes. And there are only so many reasons that would happen."

"What are they?"

"Well, Gris, our friend is either very important or very unfortunate."

"Abducted for ransom," I added, gleaning his meaning, "or what?"

"She's a female. And as a Vermorvet, not only does she have an exceptional mind, she has both telepathic and telekinetic abilities and she is able to…mate with virtually any race."

I blinked at him, letting the words sink in. "You mean…they might have abducted her to…to…_breed_?"

He nodded, frowning deeply.

"We have to save her," I responded resolutely, not seeing any way around it.

He paused for a second, staring at the screen. He seemed to be thinking before he turned to look at me and reached out, setting a hand on my shoulder. "We will."


	5. Save Me

**Disclaimer**: Whoniverse is not mine. Italics is Srilana (the Vermorvet).

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><p>It took us quite a while to track down the ship. Several cups of tea and a few "biscuits" – cookies, that is – later, we wore floating undetected behind a moon in a galaxy far away from home, about 217 years in the future.<p>

"Plan of attack?" I asked, glancing at the screen that held the image of the scavenger ship.

"We have a problem."

"What's that?"

"You're female."

"Never been a problem before," I raised a dark eyebrow, putting my hands on my hips.

"You've never been about to board a ship that may be full of a race that abducts women for breeing."

"Fair point," I frowned, dropping my hands to my sides. "But it might not be?"

"Are you willing to risk it?"

"Will you save me?"

"Every time," he responded with his grin and jerked a knob on the console. The TARDIS shifted and I stumbled. He extended his hand to me and I took it before we walked out of the TARDIS and onto my third space ship of the day.

It was nothing like the TARDIS, all exposed wires and bare metal. It wasn't pretty. I gripped the Doctor's hand tightly before finally letting go. I didn't really want to but I felt kind of silly. The Doctor took point and led me slowly through the dimly lit and dingy corridor.

I wasn't exactly sure what we were doing and I don't think the Doctor was either.

_Help me_.

"Did you say something?" I asked the Doctor in a whisper as we slunk down a corridor.

"No."

_Help me. Please, help me._

"Are you sure you didn't say anything?"

"Yes. What are you hearing?"

"There's a voice in my head. One that doesn't belong there."

_Help me, please. I'm in a cell, I think. It's so dark._

"Doctor, you said our bookish friend is telepathic, right? I think she is in my head. She said she's in a cell."

Have they hurt you? I thought. No response. I tried harder. Have they hurt you?

_Not yet. I can't see, I don't know if there are guards. _

I relayed the information to the Doctor. "We have to find her," I said, wiping my now-sweaty palms on my pants.

"I know, Gris." He frowned before he turned away so that we could round a corner.

And then he was gone. It was all gone. Blackness, unconsciousness, and more blackness.


	6. Cell

**A/N**: Italics is Srilana (Vermorvet), bold is Doctor, underline is Gris.

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><p>"Doctor?" I called into the dark. "Doctor?" I tried again, putting my hands in front of me. Air. I scooted forward on my knees, metal hard and warm beneath me. "Doctor?" I squeaked, fighting the urge to scream. I reached out, trying repeatedly to find something to hold on to. My voice sounded weird, like there were cotton balls in my ears.<p>

I was in a fit by the time I reached the door. It was big and metal, warm but not hot to the touch with a small window with a row of three bars. Everything was black. I didn't understand how there could be no light at all. I felt like I could still see, but feared that I was blind.

"DOCTOR!" I finally let out through the window in the door. It sounded so strange to me, the word the way I said it. I couldn't put my finger on it.

Still, nothing.

With nothing else to do but freak out, I took the time to pace out my small cell.

And then it hit me. A cell.

Hello? Can you hear me?

_Yes, yes I can! Are you coming?_

I'm afraid I'm already here. Didn't you hear me screaming?

_No, you can't hear or see anything. Try snapping your fingers_.

I did. How did I not notice before? That was why my words sounded so weird when I called for the Doctor. Why it sounded like I had a sinus infection.

_It's the cell. There's some kind of force field. It takes away your most useful senses_.

How can I still hear you?

_They can't block the telepathy. It doesn't physically affect the cells._

So the Doctor can't hear me? Can you send him a message?

_I'll do something better. Just…think._

Doctor? Doctor, if you can hear me, I'm all right. I'm in a cell with some force field or something. I can't see or hear but I think I'm okay. Are you? Okay, I mean.

**Gris?** I heard after a moment. **Yes, I'm fine. But Gris, you need to run.**

What do you mean?

**I was right. This isn't for a ransom situation. You need to **run**.**

I froze. I knew what he was saying. But how could I just leave him? What would they do to him? Kill him?

**Get back in the TARDIS and lock yourself inside.**

I didn't respond. My mind was spinning. I had to escape somehow, without seeing or hearing, and find the Doctor. And our friend. And whoever else was there.

**Gris!** He called in my head and I snapped around as if looking for him.

I heard you. I just have to figure out how to get out of here.

**Check your pocket.**

I did – in my jacket pocket, opposite the one that held my wallet, was his sonic screwdriver. I could tell by the feel of it.

Doctor, are you in a cell too?

**Yes, but don't worry about me. Just go**.

Friend? I called to the psychic.

_I'm here_.

Can he still hear me?

_Not unless you want him to._

Good. I'm going to try and break out. I don't now how to find either of you, but I won't stop until I do.

_But your friend said to run_.

Of course he did. But I can't very well leave him to die, or you to a fate worse than that. He and I have only just met, and he doesn't know me very well yet. He promised me he'd save me and he did. Now it's my turn.


	7. Octanitrocubane

**A/N:** Thanks to dablackfox101 to adding this to her community! And hi Emily! And I know...Gris seems a little much in this chapter. I promise she's not going to run the show, I just needed to establish something between the characters. And it's old-school! (By this I mean Davies-centric writing rather than Moffat-centric, wherein the companions solved the problems because that was the kind of guy the Doctor was. An enabler, of sorts. In a good way.)

**Disclaimer**: Whoniverse is not mine. Vermorvet are from my brain, Libslons (captor race) too. I think, anyway.

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><p>While Srilana – that was our Vermorvet friend's name – chatted to me in my head, I felt up the Doctor's screwdriver in an attempt to find the button. I had no way to know if it was even on, let alone working. Or even if I was pointing it in the right direction.<p>

But I was going to sit there, turning the screwdriver every which way and pushing against what I hoped was the door handle until something happened. If the Doctor believed it would help me, then so did I. Why, I wasn't sure – he was a crazy man in a flying blue box that had put me in harm's way the first time I met him. But, to be fair, I had walked hand-in-hand onto the ship of my volition.

He said he would save me and I still believed him.

I was beginning to give up when the handle actually started to give. I was practically in tears when the light hit my eyes and I could hear the sonic screwdriver still working in my hand. I released the button and blinked over and over, trying to acclimate to having all five senses again.

I had done it!

My vision slowly came into focus and the light stopped burning. I suddenly wished I was deaf again, though – just because we couldn't hear in the cells didn't mean that we weren't making noise.

The screams brought tears to my eyes, which made it a little difficult to ascertain if there were any guards. Wails, moans, shrieks. Whimpers. Those were the worst.

The doors that I thought were metal were glass. Not only would I hear all of the poor women, I could see them.

On the bright side, I realized that the locking mechanism didn't require a key. It was like a deadbolt so I just turned and said "get into the hallway, but quietly. Help open the other doors" and moved on. Behind me, slowly, the others emerged. Dirty, broken, and tear-stained but _alive._

After several light steps in my heels, trying desperately not to make any extra nose, I found myself three cells down from my own.

I came upon a door that showed me a long, flesh-colored snake. A worm with no discernible gender but a long dress-like robe with no arm holes. Or feet.

I opened the door and took a stab in the dark. Srilana? Is that you? I asked as I pried open the door. Her face was human enough, with no nose and a small lip-less mouth. She had no ears to speak of and when I say she sat up I mean that her body coiled so that her upper body was in the air, her face drawing close to mine.

Her eyes were wide enough but her pupils were almost nonexistent in the milky whiteness of her iris and sclera.

_Gris! You did it!_

Yes and now I just have to find the Doctor. The other women are helping to free the prisoners. I don't know if they've found him yet or not.

I tucked the sonic screwdriver back in my pocket and left her, searching cells for my companion.

I nearly died when I found him. Almost the last cell, seated on the floor with his back and head resting against the wall behind him. His legs were stretched out in front of him, his hands pressed against the metal floor beneath him. His hair was askew and his suit was all but in tatters. His face was bruised and bloody, his lip split and a dark red smear on his chin.

I could have shouted with happiness that he was still alive and clicked the lock, putting all my weight into pulling the door open.

"Come to finish the job, then?" He asked as he jumped to his feet, as though he was talking about going to the zoo. He hesitated a moment as his eyes adjusted to the sudden flood of light, at which point he frowned. "I told you to run." His voice sounded half irritated and half amused.

"And I will, once we get everyone out."

He looked rough, worse in the full light. There were dark circles under his eyes – how long had we been here? – and a bruise was forming along his jawline. The mess they had made of his suit made me believe his body had gotten the worst of it. Looking at him made me realize that my own cheek ached and I could breathe through my nose, something I was probably thankful for. I reached a hand up and touched my nose tenderly, wincing as I did so. Definitely broken.

"Aren't we a pair," I laughed quietly and he shook his head, frowning at me still as he rolled his head on his shoulders.

"You should've listened to me."

"Did you just expect me to leave you here? They would've killed you."

"What they have in store for you is far worse, Gris."

"You said you would save me and you did, by putting that in my pocket. Now it's my turn."

We made sure everyone was out of their cells and then realized we had to find our way to the TARDIS. IT was slow going but, eventually, it was in sight. We herded everyone in but Srilana, the Doctor, and myself.

And, as we three stood outside the TARDIS, a thudding down the hall alerted us to the presence of our captors.

"Quick, get inside," I pushed Srilana through the door and tugged it closed – at this point I realized she couldn't hear me when I spoke aloud, but it didn't matter.

I was practically against the TARDIS door, the Doctor about a foot away from me.

The group of men that approached us were humanoid enough, despite their small, bulky stature and dark blue-black skin. They had no hair to speak of, save for thin black eyebrows and dark eyelashes of the same color. They wore bodysuits that showcased their thick frames and long limbs, although they were only a little taller than me, roughly 5'8''. Shorter than the Doctor.

That didn't stop them from grabbing him from my side, even as I reached out to take his hand. "STAY BACK!" he screamed at me as they dragged him further from me. With my heart racing, I had no idea what to do. They were holding him roughly by the arms and shoulders, his legs loose against the floor as they pulled him back.

"Come with us and we will make his death quick," one of them said, a few feet in front of me.

"I have a better idea," I replied, trying to sound far more impressive and confident than I felt. I tried desperately to keep the shake out of my hands and my voice. I slid my hand into my pocket and withdrew the screwdriver. "You'll give him back to me, right now, in one piece – or I will blow every one of us up into smithereens."

The man-thing looked at me, weighed his options, and nodded his head in the direction of the sonic screwdriver.

"What are you talking about?"

"This?" I asked, flicking out the screwdriver like I had seen the Doctor do earlier. They jumped a little at the noise and I lifted it into the air, hesitating my thumb over the button that would light it up. "It's a detonation device. Within in this tiny little metal casing contains enough_," __come on, think. What's explosive? Come on, come on –oh!_ A tiny voice in my head whispered the answer: "octanitrocubane to destroy this ship and quite a few more. If I press this button, we'll all be dead in seconds. Or you can kindly let that man go."

The man-thing looked at me, hard, for a long moment and I straightened my spine. I brushed my finger over the 'trigger', "I'm waiting."

He looked from me to the Doctor and back again before he lifted one hand and wave it in the Doctor's direction. His men released him and he caught himself before he crossed the distance to stand beside me – safely within the TARDIS' force field, it appeared.

"Thank you," I replied, lowering my hand a little. "But that's not everything."

"Gris…" the Doctor warned. I shot him a look before turning back to the group of renegade, kidnapping aliens in front of me.

"Stop," I said, resolutely. "You will stop abducting women. Now. Immediately."

"Our race-"

"_I don't care_," I responded, taking a step forward but pulling myself back. "There's this wonderful concept called _romance_. You know: dates, jewelry, flowers. Try it." They all looked mightily confused and so, to add emphasis, I lifted the screwdriver again. My arm was exhausted. "And if you don't – we'll be watching you. And if we find out that you've harmed a single woman, we **will** find you. And I **will** press this button."

The Doctor pushed the TARDIS door and slid in, me following immediately behind. I turned to them one last time, lifting the screwdriver out of the door, "Don't test me, boys. **I will destroy you**."

And then, the TARDIS door closed behind me, I slid down and let my bottom press to the floor of the TARDIS. With my back against the door, I held the screwdriver in two shaky hands as I tried desperately not to cry for a million different reasons.

The Doctor stopped and turned, moving back to me. He touched my shoulder gently, "Are you all right?"

I nodded, clenching my jaw. My cheek ached and I could feel the swelling as it grew.

"You know that's just a screwdriver, right?" he asked as I handed it back to him, turning it over in his hands. "And how did you know about octanitrocubane?"

"Random factoid in my brain," I shrugged, "A chemistry class, I think. And yes, I knew that. But _they_ didn't." I paused, looking up at him from where I sat. I wiped my cheeks, the left one much lighter than the right, and sighed heavily. "I think I'm just going to sit here for a minute."

"Right. We have a lot of travelling to do to drop these ladies off. I'll get to it." He moved away a little but stopped and turned around. "And Gris?"

"Yes, Doctor?" I tilted my head up, resting the back of my head against the door.

"Thank you."

"I have the feeling you would've done the same thing. And it looks like you tried to."

He smiled and touched his split lip before he moved away from me and back to the console.


End file.
